NICK and NEAL
by colakirk
Summary: Peter and El adopt 12 year old twins after they are orphaned. WARNING: Contains spanking and bad language. If you Don't like, please don't read.
1. Seems Like Yesterday

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got this idea for Nick and Neal while trying to think up a story for My Mother Elizabeth and started playing around with it. It's not complete but (hopefully) each 'episode' can stand alone, with an umbrella story (hopefully) bringing it all together towards the end. And the idea is, as I get a chance to write more, I can add additional episodes – Well, that's the grand plan anyway.

**Warning:** Contains spanking of a child, repeated use of bad language by a child and deals with death. If you find cursing offensive, please don't read any further.

NICK AND NEAL

**Episode 1:** _Seems Like Yesterday_

For what seemed like the hundredth time, I rubbed my hands along the length of my suit pants, removing the sweat that continued to build up through nerves. I could have kicked myself for not taking something to suppress my anxiety. El had offered but I didn't want to appear less than perfect, so unfortunately I turned down what was probably a very sensible course of action. Neal, who was standing a couple of feet in front, glanced back over his shoulder and gave me an endearing smile, almost as though he could read my thoughts and I found myself slightly calmed by his intoxicating charm. Nick, standing beside his brother, must have sensed the interaction because he also looked back tossing his patent cheeky grin my way. I winked at both my sons, hoping it would reassure them I was fine and found myself beginning to relax. Before long, my thoughts drifted back to a time when they were so much younger and my head began to fill with recollections of their antics, some good, some bad, but always and forever memorable...

I remember the day we brought Nick and Neal home from the hospital like it was yesterday, although it also seems like a lifetime ago now, two young boys in need of so much. At the time, I frequently asked myself if I had what it took to raise them properly, and to this day, I'm still not confident in answering that question. Not that there ever was a question of choice. Their father Nicco, my best friend and a distinguished member of the NYPD, was killed in a motorcycle crash in the line of duty when the little tykes were barely two years old. Sadly, Nicco's death sent their mother Kate into a downward spiral of despair and depression over the subsequent decade, culminating in her taking her own life one month shy of the boys' twelfth birthday. It would be difficult to say who struggled more, the boys or El and I. I guess the only true certainty being, it turned all our worlds upside down.

Not that we didn't have any parenting experience mind you, El and I had cared for the youngsters on numerous occasions. During the years that Kate struggled with drugs, the boys were frequently under our care, but the stays were short lived and always had an expiration date. Kate would clean up her act and Nick and Neal would head home. It wasn't a perfect solution, fully aware that Kate was certain to relapse. With, that knowledge we endeavored to do everything within our powers to support her, forever conscious of the fact that not only had Kate's drug dependency been a direct result of Nicco being killed, but also I knew with complete conviction that Nicco would have done everything possible to support Elizabeth if the situation had been reversed.

So it was without a second's hesitation that we wrapped two distraught little boys in our arms at the hospital where their mother was pronounced dead - unfortunately they had been the ones who'd found Kate unconscious on the living room floor one Saturday afternoon after hanging out all day at the park with friends – and bundled up their worldly possessions and brought them back to our Brooklyn townhouse. From that day on, it was their permanent address and El and I were no longer a childless couple, we were an instant family of four.

Nick and Neal. Two boys, twins born minutes apart with the same black wavy hair, the same fine features and the same amazingly brilliant blue eyes – they'd got those eyes from Kate. I'd never seen two individuals look so much alike, in fact I didn't think it was possible. I'd always heard that with identical twins, the parents could easily tell them apart, even from across the room, but these two boys, they should have come with permanent name tags because there wasn't a single identifying characteristic that could distinguish one from the other. Their parents had left the hospital ID tags firmly secured around their ankles until the boys grew out of them and even then, they continued to secure new anklet ID's after every growth spurt. I'm almost certain the boys wore those ID's until they knew their own names, somewhere around eighteen months of age. But their uncanny similarity was where it all ended for their personalities were as different as their appearances were alike. Their temperament, nature, behavior and disposition were polar opposites, so at the end of the day, it was their individuality that differentiated Nick from Neal and not their physical appearance.

Despite their having very little in common with each other, the boys got along surprisingly well. As likely resulting from what life had put them through as from the fact that they we created by the same egg, Nick and Neal had an iron clad bond that went far beyond simple sibling loyalty. Unfortunately for El and I that usually meant, if one boy got himself in trouble, the other was undoubtedly his co-pilot for the misadventure. Of course, that's not to say the boys didn't have their share of fights and disagreements and we were realistic enough to understand that the first couple of weeks after Kate's death would be the most trying for all of us. That being said, I had hoped to make it past the day of their mother's funeral before having to break up their first ever fist fight!

We'd arrived home from Kate's sister's house where the wake was being held, having only kept the boys there for a minimal time before heading home. Knowing that they were both emotionally drained and having to field questions and responses to relatives and friends of their mom's they'd never met would only put them in a more negative state of mind.

El and I were standing in the kitchen, wrapped in each other's arms, too exhausted and emotionally drained ourselves to even consider pouring a coffee long after the jug had boiled, when we heard shouting from the backyard…...

###

…... "Hey!" Peter shouted at the two youngsters wrestling on the back lawn, one straddling the other, pounding his fist into his opponent's face. As the boy lifted his arm for a third strike, he found it restricted by a much larger, far stronger hand. "What's going on!" Peter shouted angrily as he pulled on the boy's arm and yanked him clear onto his feet.

Once he was able, the one sprawled out on the lawn wasted no time in rolling onto his knees and clambering to his feet. As he righted himself he shouted angrily, "Stay the fuck out of this Peter!"

Because they had both being dressed in the same navy suits with identical dress shirts for the funeral, Peter hadn't a hope of knowing which boy was which, however, he'd just assumed that Nick, the far more aggressive of the two, had been the one doing the punching. Neal never, ever swore, but then again, he would never hit someone either. Peter was confused. Turning to the kid whose arm he still held, he took a guess, "Neal… why were you punching your brother?"

The boy looked up with wide, hurt and watery eyes filled with anger but didn't open his mouth. Instead, he tried, without success, to reef his arm from the hold Peter continued to maintain.

Satisfied that he had the correct boy, Peter tried again, "Neal, why were you-"

"This is between me and Neal, Peter, it has fu-"

"One more curse word out of your mouth Nick and I will turn you over my knee right here in the backyard!" Peter's firm admonishment had its desired effect. The boy clamped his mouth shut. "Now Neal, for the last time, why were you hitting Nick?"

The boy gave up all fight and dropped his head, shaking it slightly from side to side. Peter released his arm, accepting he was getting nowhere and turned to address his brother.

"Nick, can you explain to me please why Neal was hitting you."

"Yeah, I can," his tone was challenging and insolent and Peter was a few short threads away from making good on his earlier threat. "The little bast, the uh, the kid was upset cause I told him the truth."

"Which was?" Peter was almost frightened to ask.

"That it was his fault Mom was dead!"

The confession shocked Peter so much it took him a moment or two to compose a reply. "Neal, go in the house please." El, who'd been standing on the porch the whole time listening, waved the boy over.

Satisfied that at least one problem was taken care of, Peter turned to the other. "Nick, why would you say that to your brother?"

"Cause it's fucking tr...owwww!" Nick rubbed frantically at the spot on his butt where Peter had just landed two particularly stinging swats.

"No, it's not true Nick, so why would you say it?" Peter was hoping to get a clue to the boy's line of thinking before the whole incident turned into a full on cursing tirade.

Letting go of his butt, the youngster directed an angry glare at the agent before reaching down to pick up a stray stick lying at his feet.

For a split second, Peter wondered if the kid was about to initiate a physical onslaught of sorts, but instead, Nick turned to some poor innocent sapling tree and whacked it right out of the ground. El wouldn't be happy; Peter considered but didn't voice his concern. The kid had enough going on in his head.

"Of course you're right Peter," Nick took his stick to the row of hedge plants on the property boundary and began swinging wildly, whacking the shrubs with all his might. "It's not Neal's fault."

"Nick…" Peter approached cautiously, not wanting to get an errant stick in his eye.

"What Peter! You want the truth?" He lifted his weapon and hurled it with considerable force across the yard where it collided with a resounding thud into the garden shed.

Peter cringed hoping not too many neighbors were home on this particular mid-week afternoon.

"You're not gonna like it though," the youngster screamed. "It's your fucking fault Peter our Mom is dead. She'd still be fucking alive if it wasn't for you!" The boy took a swing at Peter, only to have it easily blocked. "It's your fucking fault you ass," Nick swung wildly at the agent again with clenched fists, some of the blows successfully reaching their target and striking Peter's chest. "You were supposed to take care of her. You are always telling us everything will be okay so it's your fucking fault!" Nick's emotional outburst ran out of steam fast and the boy collapsed into Peter's arms as his angry screaming turned to pitiful sobs in a matter of seconds. Peter dropped to his knees and pulled the child into a tight, secure hug. "It's okay Nicky. It's okay. I got you." He rubbed tender circles on the boy's back as the weeping continued.

Between the tears, Nick confessed, "It's m-my fault P-Peter. M-mom's d-dead because of m-me."

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat feeling totally helpless. He noted with grim acceptance that the situation was going from bad to worse. The sobbing from his young charge was on the increase and he had no earthly idea how to fix the mess that was weeping uncontrollably against his chest. He doubted for the longest moment that he had done the right thing in believing he could care for these two needy boys. Perhaps he should have considered more carefully if there were other appropriate candidates to care for the twins. The ink wasn't even dry on the guardianship papers and here he was, already floundering. Peter wanted to cry himself. He wanted to cry for Nick and his brother Neal. He wanted to cry for Kate, sweet Kate who got so lost after losing Nicco. For sure he wanted to cry for his best buddy Nicco whom he'd shared so many adventures with and who was so cruelly taken away before anyone was ready. He wanted to cry for El and himself, mostly himself because he had no idea what to do and he knew the boy curled up against him, soaking his dress shirt in tears and mucus, was counting on him, was trusting him to make everything right again - something Peter felt at this point in time was an impossible ask. Peter brushed away a lone tear on his own cheek and lifted the boy as he stood, trying not to winch at the sharp pain coursing through his knees as a result of having been kneeling against the ground for way too long. He carried the weeping child over to the back porch and dropped himself into one of the patio chairs, cradling Nick against his body as he maneuvered them both into a more comfortable position.

Peter sat with the youngster on his lap long after the sobbing subsided. When he considered the child had calmed enough, he dared to ask, "Nicky, tell me why you think it's your fault?"

"Cause it is." Nick blew his nose on the blanket now resting between Peter's wet shirt and his face. El had snuck out the blanket, along with an ice-pack for the boy's face, soon after Peter moved them onto the patio.

"How could it be kiddo? I've explained to you how your mom passed away. I told you what the doctors said."

"They don't know what happened at home."

Being news to him, Peter raised his brows and considered the comment. Not wanting to go another emotional round with the youngster, he proceeded with caution, "How about this kiddo, you tell me what happened at home and I'll tell you if I think it's your fault or not."

The boy made a halfhearted attempt to climb off Peter's lap but soon realized he wasn't going anywhere fast. "Peter," he moaned instead. "I need to go the bathroom."

"Then quickly tell me why you think it's your fault and as soon as you have, you can race off to the bathroom before you wet your pants."

"Peeeeeter!" The kid wined while slapping him playfully across his arm.

"Why Nick?" The agent was unwilling to let the issue slide, knowing it was unlikely the kid was ever to be as forthcoming as he was now in his semi-vulnerable state.

Nick huffed before finally leaning back into Peter's shoulder. "Promise me you won't get mad."

Despite the situation, the agent grinned. Any confession by one of the boys that began, 'Don't get mad', always spelt trouble. "I won't Nicky, I promise."

"The morning Mom died, I was supposed to be at home. Mom had grounded me for…" The boy glanced up at Peter, clearly uncomfortable about continuing.

"It doesn't matter why you were grounded. So…you were supposed to be at home…"

"Yeah, it was last Saturday morning and Neal was going to the park to meet with some of our friends."

Peter couldn't help but ask, "Why was Neal going to the park?" It was highly unlikely the kid would be there to participate in any physical activity.

"We have a regular Saturday game of basketball with some of the local kids. I organize the teams and Neal..." Nick paused, "Is Neal going to be in trouble for this?"

"No buddy, this one time, full immunity for any confession or any details you divulge related to either you or Neal."

"You promise?"

"Yeah buddy, I promise."

"Okay, so Neal runs a betting tab with the boys not playing. They wager bets on everything from which kid is going to score first to how many times a newcomer is going to get knocked to the ground."

_Great!_ What these two junior delinquents got up to without his knowledge bothered Peter no end! "I imagine Neal makes quite a tidy sum each week?"

"Yeah, but we split the profits."

"That's fair," Peter noted with a generous serve of sarcasm, which went unnoticed by the child. "So, getting back to your story, last Saturday morning, you were supposed to be grounded…"

"Yeah, I wanted to go to the park with Neal but Mom said I couldn't and I uh," Nick lowered his voice, clearly ashamed of what he needed to say, "I yelled at her and told her there was no way I was going to stay home and watch her sit around moping feeling sorry for herself. You know she lost her job at the drycleaners the day before?"

"Yeah, she called El but…I didn't know she was depressed. I'm sorry Nick; I should have come over and checked. What was she doing?"

"Nothing too different. Just lying in bed, still in her pajamas. Wouldn't go out to get any food. We'd run out of milk and bread so Neal went to the store to fetch some for breakfast. He made her a coffee and took it in but I don't think she drank it."

"Neal normally calls El when he's worried about your mom. I wonder why he didn't this time." Peter asked himself more than the boy on his lap.

"Dunno." Nick shrugged, answering anyway. "I guess we both just expected Mom would be depressed after losing her job, she had been every other time, so maybe he thought she'd get over it in a day or two."

"Yeah, makes sense," he offered by way of support. "Nicky…" Peter adjusted the boy on his lap so he could see his face. "Your Mom took a fatal dose of sleeping tablets, along with a dangerous cocktail of other drugs. Had you been home, it wouldn't have made any difference. There wasn't anything you could have done to prevent this from happening." Peter wiped at the tears leaking from the corners of the young boy's eyes. "You understand kiddo, this was nobody's fault, not even your mom's."

Nick dropped his gaze, staring at the pattern covering the porch. Eventually he raised sad, hopeless eyes, "Peter…"

"Yeah bud?"

"You know the last thing I ever said to my Mom?"

_No_, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to either. "What did you say Nicky?"

"I told her she didn't even have the right to call herself a mother and I didn't want to be considered her son anymore…And then I caught up with Neal and joined him at the park and didn't even think about what might be happening at home."

"Nicky," Peter ran his hand through the boy's thick dark wavy hair. "We all say things we don't mean. Adults and kids alike. Mostly said in anger when we're not thinking straight. Your mom knew you didn't mean it, she knew you were upset about not being allowed to go to the park. She would have known you were going to tell her how sorry you were when you got home."

"And now I'll never have a chance." The tears began to flow freely once again down the boy's cheeks.

Peter thought for a moment, "Tell you what kiddo, when you get into bed tonight, you tell your mom that you were sorry for the things you said and for taking off when you were supposed to be grounded and Nicky, I can guarantee she will hear you."

"You promise?" the child looked ever so hopeful.

"Yes buddy, I promise." He leaned down and kissed the boy on his forehead. "Now, better head off to the bathroom before you know…"

"Peeeeeter!" Nick climbed off the agent's lap and disappeared inside.

Peter sighed deeply and rubbed the tops of his thighs, trying to reignite the blood flow. Pulling himself to his feet, he gingerly made his way into the house. He walked in through the living area, past El, seemingly dozing on the couch, cradling an equally unconscious twelve year old who was curled up and tucked under every part of Elizabeth's arms. A brimming cup of coffee and a full glass of juice left untouched on the side table. Peter dragged his feet up the stairs, shutting the bedroom door behind him. He stripped off his soaked shirt and the rest as he headed into the bathroom. Shutting the bathroom door behind him he turned on the faucet and stood watching the buildup of steam, mesmerized by its soothing power. Stepping in through the vapors, he let the water run over his head as he leaned against the smooth, damp tiles. If it hadn't been for the sound of his hitched breaths, he would have talked himself into the fact that he hadn't finally succumbed to all the emotions of the past week. Any evidence of his weeping could be easily disguised under the pretense of water from the facet washing over his face. Given that he had many tears to wash away, a long time must have passed because he never felt the water run cold, only the sound of El tapping on the glass panel of the shower door snapped him back to reality, "Peter…Peter….


	2. The Guardian

**Episode 2: **_The Guardian_

…..."Peter…Peter…Peter!"

"Uh." I reached out to turn the faucet off, only to find myself grabbing the chair in front.

"Peter," El whispered, "the judge is talking to you."

"Oh," Putting on my best professional face, I jumped to my feet, "I'm sorry your honor?"

"Agent Burke."

"Yes your honor?"

"You are Nick and Neal Caffrey's father?"

"Correct your honor." The boys, who were no longer standing, turned in their seats and looked up at me with, was that pride? Perhaps it was wishful thinking on my part, but I was happy to believe it nevertheless.

"And you and your wife Elizabeth adopted these two individuals when they were…" the judge checked through the file on his desk, "they were twelve."

"Correct your honor. However, Elizabeth and I had been involved in the boy's care for many years prior to that."

"Involved to what capacity? There's no record here of official guardianship before the age of twelve."

I searched my memories trying to work out at what point I had become the twins 'unofficial' guardian. During the first few years after Nicco's death, I guess El and I offered mostly emotional support; a shoulder to cry on, a companion with whom to share and celebrate special occasions, a helping hand when the task of caring for two young toddlers single-handedly became overwhelming.

Somewhere along the way though, my involvement in the boys' care became more active and hands-on. My role in their lives evolved from that of 'Uncle Peter' to their surrogate dad without any conscious decision on my part. I'm not clear at what point my un-appointed duties as 'father' kicked in, but I'm pretty sure the first notable time was when the boys were about seven.

"Agent Burke?"

"No your honor. There are no official records. Nick and Neal's parents were close family friends of ours from before the twins were born. And after their dad lost his life, well, Elizabeth and I did whatever we could to support Kate."

"Kate? Mrs. Caffrey?"

"Yes your honor, the boy's biological mother, Kate…..

###

…..."Kate! Come in." Elizabeth pulled back the door and beckoned the younger woman inside with a warm wave of her hand.

"Thanks." Kate walked in completely unsure of herself. Then realizing that Elizabeth was still in her dressing gown, she set about apologizing. "Sorry to bother you so early El."

"Don't be silly. It's no bother. In fact it's great to see you here. Please, sit down." El moved a couple of the cushions and indicated for Kate to take a seat.

"Hey Kate." Peter came down the stairs with damp hair looking like he'd just popped out of the shower. "How's things?" He leaned down and gave her a kiss before dropping into the single armchair.

"Can I get us all a coffee?" El moved towards the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine thanks El…I've had way too many already." The young woman's voice cracked with emotion.

Elizabeth moved back to the couch and sat with her friend. Placing a caring hand on her knee she asked, "What's up Kate? Did something happen?"

"It's the boys."

"What about them? They okay? Where are they now?" Peter quickly lost his complacency and leaned forward snapping into agent mode.

"They ah, they got up," Kate pressed her fingers to her forehead, having a difficult time recalling what happened. "They got up, had breakfast and I haven't seen them since. I've looked everywhere."

Peter checked his watch. Two seven year old boys shouldn't be missing at all, for any length of time, particularly those two but it was only eight thirty in the morning. "They couldn't have gone too far Kate," Peter tried to sound reassuring. "How long ago did they have breakfast?" He walked over and collected his coat off the hanger while trying to work out where to begin the search. "About an hour ago?"

Kate dropped her gaze, before admitting somewhat nervously, "Uh, no…I um haven't seen them since yesterday morning, breakfast yesterday."

Peter raised his eyebrows as he watched his wife's mouth drop open. "Kate, you haven't seen your boys for over twenty-four hours! They have been missing all night!"

"Yeah, I uh…I guess. When I got home they were gone. I don't know what time they left the house yesterday."

"Were you at work, honey?" El was trying to balance the building storm from across the room with her own calming influence."

"Yes, till five-thirty."

Peter sighed in frustration. "And…? What time was it that the sitter saw them last?" Getting blood out of a stone would have been an easier task!

"The sitter was sick."

"Oh for crying out loud Kate, you realize it's against the law to leave seven year old children at home without adult supervision!"

"Peter, calm down." El could understand her husband's frustration but he wasn't helping the situation.

"I didn't have a choice Peter. I couldn't call in myself. The deli manager said the next time I didn't come in for my shift, no matter what the reason, I'd be let go. I have rent due next week, I didn't have a choice."

"You realize that in itself is illegal don't you Kate. You know you have legal rights as an employee?"

"Peter, the boys. We're getting off track here." The one voice of reason in the room took control. "Kate, where are the boys more likely to go? Where have you looked?"

"Everywhere El, I walked around everywhere last night. I checked the parks, I checked the all-night stores, I checked the alleys behind our building. I looked-"

Peter finally snapped, "So what Kate, you didn't think of calling me or, you know, the police!"

Kate's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry Peter I tried looking everywhere."

The agent gestured wildly with his hands, "They're seven years old-"

"Peter! Enough!" El mouthed the words 'not helping' and glared down her husband. Honestly, she couldn't blame him. He was only saying what they both thought. Even so, there was a time and place for this type of lecture and the boys were still missing. Peter's gripe with Kate's severe lack of parental judgment would have to wait.

The agent inhaled deeply and calmed himself enough to take stock of the situation. El was right, losing it with Kate would only push her away, and where would the little guys be then. "Kate," Peter came and sat on the coffee table in front of the younger woman and softened his voice, "why would the boys run away, tell me what happened." If he knew why they were missing, there may be a clue to their whereabouts.

"Well the boys and I had a fight."

Peter cringed. Oh unbelievable! You didn't fight with seven year olds, not when you were the adult. "What over?"

"I got a call from the school on Friday to come and pick the boys up early. Nick had been involved in some kind of tussle with a few other kids at recess and while I was there the principal called me in for a chat. Told me Nick had been acting out, even more so than usual and he had been sent to the office every day this week. Neal, well he'd stolen another kid's lunch money, his teacher had seen him and report it. The principal told me both boys were being sent home early as punishment and they'd have one week's detention beginning Monday…He also suggested I attend some kind of positive parenting class being held at the school next month."

Peter held his tongue about that sounding like a tremendously fabulous idea and focused his attention on the missing children. There wasn't much in the way of clues from the information Kate had divulged to give a solid lead. He checked his watch. Eight fifty-three. "Okay, Kate, I want you to go back home with El and wait there-"

"No Peter, I want to keep looking."

"Kate," Elizabeth took the younger woman's hand and patted it caringly. "If the boy's come home, someone needs to be there. They may only drop in for a short time before deciding to take off again so it's important that someone is there. You understand, honey?"

"Yes El." Kate ran her free hand down her face before hoping up and reaching for her coat. "I, uh, I caught the subway over. Do you want me to call us a cab?"

"No need. I'll drive. Just give me a minute or two to get changed." El dashed up the stairs and out of sight leaving the young woman alone with Peter. She gave a discrete sideways glance in his direction, wondering nervously what he was going to chew her out for next.

Peter surprised her however when he pulled her into a warm embrace. "Don't worry Katie, I'll find them. Everything will be alright."

Kate blinked away swelling tears. "I hope so Peter. I'm so sorry I've let everybody down. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't worry about it now Kate, we'll sort it out later."

"I just wish I could help Peter. Sitting at home, doing nothing, I should be doing something."

"You can Kate. I want you to tell me the five top places the boys like to go on the weekends. Perhaps places that they ask to go to but don't get there very often, if at all."

"Oh, I don't really know Peter. I'm not sure what they like to do." Kate hung her head and squeezed her palms against her temples. "I'm a bad mother, I can't even think of the places my boys like."

"Kate, you can do it, I know you can. Five places, this will help, this is how you can help to find the boys."

"Well…They like the markets on 48th Street. Neal's always coming home with little treasures he finds there and Nicky says there's a stall there that has the best comic collection in New York City."

"That's great, four more."

"There's a park, two blocks behind our building, I checked it a couple of times already but the boys spend some time there most weekends. They like the MET, well Neal likes the MET and Nick goes along to…I'm not really sure why Nicky tags along. Both boys like going to the movies. There's a theatre on Harrington Ave not too far up the road from my Deli. We've seen movies there a few times and the boys have been asking to go back."

"One more Kate. You're doing so well." Peter noted that Elizabeth was on her way back down after getting dressed in record time.

"Uh…the boys were invited to a birthday party last month. Some kid in their class. Anyway the party was held at a video arcade on the same stretch as the McMahon Theatre. They had a really enjoyable time and they've been pestering me ever since to go back there."

"The McMahon Theatre, on 15th, three blocks from your building?"

"Yes, it's called the uh, the 'Timezone'?"

###

Less than twenty minutes later, Agent Peter Burke stood outside Timezone, and pulled out his cell.

"Hey El, I got them…..at the arcade…they appear fine…no they don't know I'm here yet…..they're too preoccupied with their…," Peter squinted his eyes for a clearer inspection, "with their dancing machine, of course that's about to change…okay hon….see you soon."

Peter stepped inside the decrepit video arcade, bothered as much by the putrid aroma emanating from the carpet as from the litter randomly scattered throughout the room. He wondered when the place had last being cleaned, if ever! As he approached the pair of runaway dancing delinquents from behind, his anger was fuelled by the fact that the two little boys, the only patrons of this grand establishment, had obviously gone unchecked by the first class citizen laying back with his feet up on the desk, behind the bared opening to the change counter.

He stood impatiently behind the youngsters, resisting the urge to start yelling at the top of his lungs or to swipe their backsides well into next week, fearing that either of those two avenues may have disastrous consequences resulting in the boys tumbling off their dancing machine and seriously injuring themselves. So instead, he cleared his throat and waited, hands on hips, the most pointed no-nonsense look he could muster forming on his face. One of the boys spun at the sound, his eyes shooting open like saucers, all color draining from his face, his dance moves frozen in time as he tugged his brother's arm to alert him of the new arrival. Oblivious to the danger, Nick pulled his arm away and continued dancing, "What the hell Li'l Bro! You almost ruined it! I'm just 10,000 points away from breaking the record."

Peter took Neal's arm and pulled him carefully off the machine. Once the boy had both feet firmly on the ground, the agent felt far more capable of securing one lone child. Reaching out, he grabbed him under the arms and lifted him into the air. The kid's legs waving wildly a couple of feet above the ground made little difference. "What the fu-" Nick spun to see who had so rudely interrupted his game and was about to let fly a string of verbal abuse when he made eye contact with the only person in his life capable of shutting down any such outburst. As Peter planted him on the ground beside his brother, Nick's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Both boys withered under the agent's stern glare as they contemplated their fate. Without speaking, Peter grabbed hold of the back of each boy's shirt with his right hand and marched them across to the coin exchange counter. With his left hand, Peter reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge. "FBI!"

Startled by the sudden announcement, the duty manager fell off his chair while attempting to remove his feet hastily from the assortment of crap piled on his desk. It may have been funny under less serious circumstances. The young punk, clearly not much older than a kid himself, righted himself, straightened his clothes and wiped a sleeve across his face to remove any remnants of food.

"Ah, yeah…What can I do you for Agent?"

"Were you aware these two boys were on your premises playing video games?"

Nick and Neal hung their heads, too frightened to make eye contact with the older man behind the counter, hoping unrealistically that he wouldn't be able to provide Peter with any details.

"Ah yeah, bout an hour ago I changed some notes for them." Neal cringed. They were so busted!

"What type?"

"What type of what?" The young man was clearly clueless as he shrugged.

"What type of notes? How much did they change? Peter's frustration was boiling.

The young guy shrugged, "Uh, dunno, maybe fifty, sixty, yeah, I think it was three twenties. That right little dudes?"

Nick and Neal, still firmly attached to Peter's iron grip, remained silent, hoping against hope that the dumb punk would shut the hell up!

"So!" The younger man flinched at Peter's tone, "Two small children arrive here early on a Sunday morning, without any parental supervision, wielding large amounts of cash and that doesn't send up a red flag for you!" Peter was shouting and he didn't care.

"Uh, n-no sir."

"Why not! I don't get it. Your brain doesn't say, ah, two little kids, all by themselves, they've been here for well over an hour and no one has even bothered to come and check on them. Gee, something must be wrong! Maybe I should call someone! Maybe, just maybe I could call the police!" What was wrong with these people!

"It never occurred to me sir."

"Why the hell not!"

The guy, clearly frazzled by this unexpected turn of events – up till five minutes ago he'd been happily watching Rage on the TV and eating his reheated Bacon and Egg McMuffin – wasn't sure that divulging his opinion would win any favors with the agitated man clutching the shirt collars of the two little dudes on the opposite side of the bars. "Because…."

"Because…why!"

"Because kids come in here all the time without their parents. Sometimes they spend all day… It's just the way it is Agent."

"The hell it is!" Peter turned towards the front entrance, dragging his silent young charges with him, but hastily turned back with an afterthought. "I suggest you get off your backside and clean up this disgusting mess. You're going to be getting a visit later to today from the Department of Health and Safety and I wouldn't be at all surprised if they shut you down!"

###

It had been over half an hour since Peter had called with the news that he'd found Nick and Neal safe and sound. Elizabeth had made Kate and herself a cup of herbal tea, which went a long way to settling the younger woman's anxiety. They were heading back into the kitchen to clean up when the lock on the door rattled. El continued on through, leaving Kate to deal with her sons.

Peter shoved the reluctant young runaways the remaining final steps into the living area. Their mother stood before them, arms crossed, shaking her head. "Oh boys," Kate sighed. "Why did you take off? Was it because of our fight?"

"Dunno Kate," Nick offered. "We were just having some fun."

"Well, you two just made it a whole lot worse for yourself. Won't be much fun spending the next month or two in your room. Give momma a kiss and off you go."

Neal kissed his mom on the cheek and walked off down the hall to his bedroom. Nick did the same but couldn't help but ask, "How many months?"

"Many Junior. When Mommy's no longer upset with you I might let you come back out."

"That could be for the rest of my life!" The young boy grumbled.

"Perhaps, maybe just till you're an adult," she called after the boy as he joined his brother in the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

During the little interaction between the mother and her boys, Peter stood dumfounded, rendered speechless by the extent of how the running away episode was handled, or lack thereof. Where was the emotional parent, so happy to see her children returned that she broke down in a cascade of tears? Where was the angry parent, so distraught with her boys disappearance that she chewed them out, teetering on the line of losing control as she screamed and shouted out every reason under the sun why what they did would never happen again? Where was the loving parent, so grateful to have her little boys home that she cuddled and squeezed them, unable to let them out of her grasp, afraid they may disappear into the abyss once again, this time for good? Where was any of it? Peter was at a loss to understand.

El came out of the kitchen, moments later, unaware of how the situation had been dealt with. "So…what's the story?"

The three adults sat around the lounge as Peter conveyed the misadventures of the two little scamps. Apparently they had 'hung out' at the house for most of the day but decided to clear off to the basement laundry just before Kate arrived home. They slept the night there-"

"I checked the laundry three or four times," Kate asked in confusion.

"Yeah, the stairs leading down to the basement, they're metal which gives plenty of notice that someone is about to come through the door. It was more than enough time for our two juveniles to relocate themselves behind the laundry baskets under the folding bench."

"Oh…I didn't think of that."

"Yeah, anyway, when they woke up this morning, they went down to the subway, picked a few pockets, bought a couple of hot dogs from the street vendor and made their way to Timezone. While you spent your night frantic and distressed, Nick and Neal were having the time of their lives."

El stared at Peter in confusion. Something about rubbing salt in ones wounds came to mind. That wasn't like her husband. "Uh, did they say why?"

Peter shook his head, "Neither were very forthcoming in that department but I was able to read between the lines that they were planning to stay away for a number of days so they didn't have to 'suffer through' detention at school next week. They were also upset with you Kate for 'getting up' them and 'confining them to house arrest'." Peter was reluctant to divulge the final piece of information but continued despite his inner conscious, "Kate, for some reason they think this is all your fault."

Kate gave a hopeless shake of her head and began pacing the living room. "Just one more thing to add to my list of failures. I don't know what I'm doing any more. I can't even get something as simple as taking care of my own children right. They were hiding down in the basement, probably laughing at me every time I came down looking for them."

El got up and caught the younger woman as she passed. "Now sweetie, don't get down. All kids get up to mischief of some type; it's not the end of the world. The boys need you, are counting on you every day. You do a great job, but we understand that sometimes things can get a bit overwhelming. Do you need us to take Nick and Neal for a little while to give you a break?"

"No, thank you any way El. I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"Don't be silly," El pulled her friend in for a hug. "Look, how about we take the boys each Saturday, what time does your shift start?"

"Uh, 9 a.m."

"Okay then, what about if I called by to get them around 8:30? Would that give you enough time to get down to the deli?"

"Plenty, but El, that's too much to ask."

"Not at all Kate," Peter joined in from across the room. "Perhaps some weeks we can come and get the boys on a Friday night, so you can," he waved his arm thinking, "go out maybe, have a nice pleasant evening with some friends…"

"Collapse on the bed after work and not have to worry about getting up again to prepare dinner, soak in the bath without any interruptions. Have my bed all to myself and not have little bodies encroach into my space. I could get used to that. Thank you both so much for you kind offer."

"You're welcome sweetie, it really is no problem. We'll look forward to spending more time with the boys." El guided her friend back to the couch, knowing there was still more to discuss.

Peter leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "Kate…we have to talk about the boys running away. I'd like to know what consequences there are for what I am certain we all consider to be seriously unacceptable behavior."

"Yeah, well they have to stay in their room until I tell them they can come out."

"You sent the boys to their room for…an indiscriminate amount of time?"

"Yeah, I guess maybe for a week or two. They can come out to go to school but they're going to stay in their rooms the rest of the time."

"What about dinner time sweetie? Do they come out so you can eat together?"

"Not usually El. Normally I just bring them food to their room and they eat there."

"On the floor?" Peter knew the set-up of the boy's rather small bedroom. One set of bunk beds, a chest of drawers, a hamper for the toys and not much of anything else.

"Yeah on the floor or on the bed. As long as they don't come out."

_Oh, where to start!_ "Kate," Peter heaved a deep sigh. _Where to start indeed?_ "The boys ran away from home. They spent the night in an unsecured room on their own. The stole two wallets belonging to commuters travelling the subway and they squandered the money at a video arcade. I honestly don't believe that sending them to their room for a 'week or two' where they don't have to do any chores, engage as a family or accept responsibility for their actions is going to send an appropriate message that there are severe consequences for their actions and they can't do what they did ever again."

Kate thought for a long moment before responding. "I know you're right Peter but, I don't know how else to handle them. I feel like I'm losing control and I can't do anything to stop that from happening. I honestly feel like I'm raising one child that is demon spawn and one baby kleptomaniac that steals anything and everything not tied down. How can I work with that?" Kate's voice had risen considerably during her outburst and both Peter and El looked down the hall hoping the twins hadn't heard.

"Oh sweetie, it's not that bad, you're just having a rough time of it," El rubbed the younger woman's shoulder, "You know you're not in this alone?"

"I know El, I'm sorry." Kate began to run her hands through her hair, a telltale sign that she was at her wits end.

"Kate," Peter spoke gently, "you've been with me when I've given the boys a swat of two for misbehaving."

"Yeah, Nicky and his cursing spring to mind," Kate smiled while recalling a recent incident.

"Okay, let's take that for example. When I have swatted Nick for cursing, do you think that's made a difference?"

"I know he watches his language a good deal more carefully around you than he does me." Kate paused, "I know what you're saying Peter, I've tried giving the boys a whack when they play up but I don't seem to get results. They get all upset and start to freak out and I end up backing down immediately. It's not as easy as you make it look you know."

El smiled, "Half the things Peter makes looks easy floors me too, but then again, bet he wouldn't even come close to making a chocolate soufflé to your five star standards or ever be able to beat you at Trivial Pursuit. What's the current tally Peter, twenty-three games since your last win?"

"No, twenty-two. I did not forfeit the last game. In my defense, Neal throwing up his apple pie all over my token did not constitute a defeat – I just refused to continue with the smell of vomit emanating from my plastic wedges."

Both El and Kate chuckled at that memory. Peter had put on quite a performance that night saying the boy had been sent to infiltrate his defenses!

"Anyhow we're getting off topic here," Peter was keen to change the subject. "Nick and Neal? I know it's not easy Kate but I feel they need an appropriate punishment for their behavior."

"Yes, I know you're right." Kate turned on the couch so she could face El, "If they were your boys, what would you do?"

"Well sweetie, let me think, when they came home, I'd give them the longest hug they'd ever had. I'd hold them tight and tell them how happy I was to have them back, then we'd sit together on the couch and I'd tell them how worried I had been and how very dangerous it was to do what they did because there are so many bad people out there and they were never to do that again. I would kiss them both and then tell them I was going to spank them for being so naughty. I'd take one of the boys and lay him over my knees. I'd pull down his pants and deliver a dozen or so very firm whacks to his backside. And then I would sit him on my lap and cuddle him until he stopped crying before dealing with my other boy."

Peter spoke up from across the room, "I'd also give them additional chores for a few days so when the sting of the spanking wore off, they'd still have something to remind them that it probably wasn't a good idea to do what they did."

Kate sat silently for ages considering her options before finally conceding, "Well, I guess it's worth giving it another shot. Confining them to their room hasn't had much success as a deterrent." Hoping up, she walked to the start of the hall.

"We should probably leave, sweetie. Let you take care of it with a little privacy."

"No….Please stay. Would you mind… so I didn't feel like I wasn't doing this alone."

El looked at Peter, slightly uncomfortable with that idea, particularly thinking it might not be so easy for the boys with three adults in the room. She thought quickly, "How about Peter stays and I'll take that washing down to the laundry." El indicated the basket of dirty laundry sitting by the door, obviously on the 'to do' list. "That should be a little less intimidating for the boys with just the two of you."

"Yeah, you don't mind? The laundry I mean."

"Not at all sweetie." El wasted no time in collecting the basket and heading out the door.

Peter walked over and rested his hands reassuringly on Kate's shoulders. "It's going to be fine Katie. I'll be right here if you need me."

"Thanks Peter. And thank you so much for bringing them home safely."

"It was no trouble at all and you're welcome."

"We'll, let's do this."

Peter nodded in approval and sat back down on one of the single chairs.

Kate called down the hall to the closed door, "Nick, Neal, come here please." When there was no response she shouted, "NICK! NEAL!" Peter cringed at the sudden eruption. "They probably had their headphones on," Kate offered by way of explanation.

Soon after, one of the boys poked his head down the hall, "What? We allowed out now?"

"Yes, I need to speak to you both. Come here please."

"What's up Kate?" Nick announced with a cocky attitude as he sauntered into the room only to flinch with shock at the sound of Peter clearing his throat behind him. He had thought the Burkes left ages ago. He was wrong. He quickly adjusted his attitude appropriately, "Uh, yes Mom?"

Neal strolled out a moment later and also appeared surprised and possibly a little concerned that Peter was still present. Neal was a little more forward thinking than his single-minded twin and could hear alarm bells ringing loud and clear. He pulled up beside his brother and did his best, repentant son impersonation.

Kate took each boy's hand and pulled them close. "Nick…Neal…I've been thinking about what you did, the running away, the stealing, worrying Mommy like you did and I've worked out a suitable punishment."

"I thought we're already being punished! Confined to our six by twelve cell indefinitely isn't punishment enough?" The youngster yanked his hand free from his mother's only to fly smack bang into a solid wall behind him. Peter had moved over to offer his support. Nick looked up into the agent's disapproving eyes before quickly deciding he'd rather take his chances with his mom. He crossed his arms and faced Kate, waiting unhappily for her to continue.

"As I was saying, because you were both so naughty, you will not be staying in your room, instead you will have extra chores to do every day. Nick, you will be taking the trash down to the basement every morning-"

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," the kid groaned.

"And," Kate continued, ignoring the performance, "as well as the trash you are going to clean the bathroom each night."

"NO WAY Kate!"

Peter moved himself into Nick's line of vision, positioning himself on the arm of the couch where he was able to send the little boy a rather pointed glare, which elicited a satisfactory response.

"Oh fine, whatever, I could care less!" Well, satisfactory enough for now. Small steps, Peter reminded himself. It did however annoy him to no end that Nick called his mother Kate and she never pulled him up on it.

"Neal, you will clean the kitchen every day. Wash the dishes, put away the food, and wipe the benches."

"Yes mommy. I'm sorry Junior and I caused you so much trouble. And I'm sorry Uncle Peter that you had to come out and find us."

"Thank you for your apology, Neal." Pete saw the boy's words for what they were – a very wise attempt to save his butt. A far wiser course of action than the one his brother had taken.

"Now boys, in addition to the chores, mommy is going to give you both a spanking for running away."

"Mom! Please no." Neal's composure crumbled immediately.

"What! Can't we just go back to our rooms for, you know, the next year or two!"

"No Junior, you've earned this spanking so let's get it over with."

Kate pulled on Neal's hand figuring he'd be the easier of the two and bent him slightly over one knee. The boy still had both feet on the ground so when the first swat landed, he was easily able to jump out of the way of a second. He hopped up and down on the spot, rubbing his butt. "Owwwwwww! I'm sorry Mommy, please don't hit me anymore. I won't be bad again."

Peter rolled his eyes at the performance. The one light swat Kate had given the kid across the seat of his jeans in no way warranted such a dramatic response.

But Neal's little act had its desired effect on his mother as she turned her attention to the older twin. Taking Nick off guard, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a similar position she had Neal. Lifting her arm, she managed to miss the boy's butt and instead smacked herself on the thigh as the kid twisted out of the way at the last second. Kate tried again, this time with success, resulting in Nick swinging his arms back to protect his backside. "Noooooo! No Kate, this isn't fair. You're soooooo mean!"

Kate released the boy rather than to continue and slumped on the couch in defeat. Glaring at her boys, all she had the energy for was, "I'm so disappointed in both of you."

For their part, Nick and Neal stood silently, looking like they'd both been dealt a severe beating, all part of the act to make their mother feel too guilty to continue.

Peter, of course, had no such issue. "Right!" Nick and Neal discontinued their performance immediately, real fear and concern taking over their composure at the sound of Peter's voice. The agent went and sat back on his own chair, both boys trailing him with their eyes. "You're mother has punished you for running away, now I am going to give you something to think about for being disobedient, misbehaving and disrespectful towards your mom." The last part was directed solely at Nick and he knew it. "When your mom asks you to do something, you do it. If she tells you to stay in your room, that's what you do. You do not play games by hiding in the basement or worry her by thinking it's fun to stay out all night. We won't even go into how much trouble she would have been in if you were caught stealing those wallets." Neal sniffled back the tears swelling in his eyes, brought on by Peter's words. "You pair have been very naughty little boys for your mommy and I'm going to spank you so you'll think twice about doing it again." It wasn't Peter's preferred choice, but after witnessing Kate's failed attempt at discipline, he felt as her friend he needed to step in and bring about some order before the house of cards imploded on itself.

"B-but Uncle Peter. We are sorry already. We won't be mean to mommy again. We didn't mean to be so naughty. We'll think before we act next time."

It was good. The kid was a pro. Even Peter found himself being sucked in by his sweet, thoughtful baby-like innocence. He had to mentally shake his head and remind himself what the little con was actually capable of. "I'm glad to hear that Neal because this is the last time I want to have to spank you for this type of behavior." Peter motioned to the boy with the two finger point.

"Mommy!" Neal spun back hoping for a last minute reprieve, only to realize that was a lost cause as Kate pointed back in the direction of Peter.

Neal burst into tears, for real this time, fully aware that they'd be no getting out of his punishment. Peter had swatted him a number of times in the past, and each and every time it had been a painful experience. The thought of submitting to an actual spanking just didn't bode well for the youngster. Without any control in the matter, he stood weeping in the middle of the living room floor.

Peter's confidence dropped several notches but one look at Kate reminded him that she needed this followed through as much as the boys. Steeling himself, he stood up, stepped over to the boy, lifted him up and carried him back to the chair. Without any effort, he laid Neal across his lap, tugged down his pants and wrapped a firm hand around his waist. Nick stood watching, horrified at the realization that he'd undoubtedly be the next victim. Neal made no effort to wiggle or move, all his energy currently being channeled into his uncontrolled sobbing. Peter raised his hand and brought it down, sending a sharp slapping noise echoing throughout the room and eliciting a loud scream from the youngster lying across his lap.

His first instinct was to stop, but Kate needed him to be strong. If Nicco were alive, he would not have tolerated this type of behavior from his boys. Nicco had been a man of strong principles and he would have wanted Peter to use a firm hand if his sons were reeling out of control. With those thoughts to bolster him, Peter soldiered on and delivered another nine very solid whacks. While the kid was still screaming his lungs out, Peter reached down and pulled the jeans up and over a rather bright red backside, of course resulting in more painful crying from the youngster. Peter righted the boy on his lap and hugged him tightly. "Hey kiddo, calm down, it's all over." He kissed the little boy on his forehead before setting him back on the floor. Neal ran over to his mom where he jumped into her lap and began howling with renewed vigor. Kate wrapped the youngster in her arms, surprised by his sudden need for comfort. It had been a long time.

Nick dragged his eyes away from his mother and brother and turned reluctantly in the direction of his fate. Peter once again issued the two finger point only to have a completely different reaction from the previous child. Nick held up his middle finger and shouted "Fuck you, Peter," as he bolted for the front door.

Of course, the trained agent was quick on his feet and had a hold of the boy before his little hands had even managed to turn the handle. "Let go of me you prick!" Nick kicked wildly as Peter carried his young charge back to the seat where he managed to get him across his lap without it being too painful. A couple of the kicks had found their target! "I said let me go you ass!" Peter got the boy's pants down and wasted no time in administering the spanking. After the third whack, the cursing sprouting from the youngster's lips resolved into yelps and yeowwws before finally succumbing to sorrowful sobs.

Peter stopped after ten spanks and rested his hand on the little boy's back. "Now Nick, we would have been done were it not for your little outburst of foul language." The boy sobbed louder knowing where these words were headed. "I don't talk like that. None of the people I know speak like that. Your mother doesn't use language like that. No matter how upset you are is no excuse. I don't ever want to hear you speaking like that again, understand?"

"Y-yes s-sir," Nick cried out between sobs.

"Good, cause if you do, you can expect more of this." Peter pulled back his hand and delivered six stinging slaps to the boy's upper thighs and sit spot. Nick's sobbing increased with each whack and was a weeping uncontrollably as Peter pulled up his pants and sat him upright on his lap. He cradled the boy, hoping he wouldn't have to go through this ordeal any time soon. It was far from a pleasant experience.

Sensing the boy was getting himself together; he kissed him atop of his head and placed him back on his feet. The kid went running over to his mother, "K-Kate, Kate, I'm s-sorry. I won't do that ever again."

Peter rolled his eyes upon hearing the boy refer to his mother by her first name, once again. Some problems were going to take longer to fix than others but he vowed to himself, watching over the mother cuddling her two young sons, probably for the first time in a long while, that he was going to be more vigilant in taking an active role with what really was, his second family.

Caught up in his thoughts, Peter hadn't heard El come through the door so he jumped slightly when she placed a hand on his arm…


	3. A Matter of Perspective

**Episode 3:** _A Matter of Perspective_

….I flinched at the unanticipated touch to my arm before recovering quickly and embracing the warm calming strokes El was administering along my forearm. I smiled down at my beautiful wife to reassure her I was 'back', my nostalgic trip down memory lane momentarily pushed aside while I refocused my attention to the matter at hand.

"So as their guardian, official or otherwise, and particularly being a federal officer, Agent Burke, you'd be aware of the notes in Neal Caffrey's permanent school record, stating that on a number of occasions he was reported for stealing, as well as found to be in possession of stolen property?"

I would have sighed out loud and rolled my eyes if there was even a chance my exasperation could have possibly gone undetected. "Yes your honor." I dared not look down at my younger son who was undoubtedly squirming in his seat. As it was, I felt my right hand twitching at the sudden urge to wallop him across his backside.

"It would appear as if the issue of indiscriminate theft has been a recurring problem for Mr. Caffrey."

_You've got no idea!_

The judge looked down at his paper work. "It doesn't list in his juvenile record anywhere what he was reported stealing. Are you able to recall for me Agent Burke the stolen items?"

_Hmmmm! Let me think_…Was there anything the kid hadn't stolen was probably a better question. I wouldn't have to challenge my thought processes too hard to come up with an extensive list. The kid over the years had stolen a multitude of various items - my FBI badge, wallets, purses, art work, fuel, sporting equipment, computer files, and my gun…Yeah my gun! Still gives me shivers thinking about that particularly terrifying incident. Yep, the list was endless. Still, the judge had only asked about the school records. "Yes your honor, I can. Neal, as a child had a tendency to, ah, take money if presented with an opportunity, pick pockets, steal lunch money, on one occasion he was caught in possession of handbags taken from the teacher's lounge."

"Is this correct young man?" The judge stopped quizzing me and turned to address my son.

Neal gave a questioning glance back in my direction. We had been through this extensively over the past week, working out and fine tuning what both boys should and shouldn't say during the hearing, but I imagine he was in need of a little reassurance so I gave an indiscernible nod. Seemingly happy with that, Neal answered, "Yes it is your honor."

I watched the judge make a note on his legal pad before looking up over his thick rimmed glasses, "Agent Burke, do you-" the older man broke off what he was about to ask me upon registering the arrival of the court clerk at the door. The stylishly dressed young woman knocked, I imagine out of habit, even though her presence was already known. Knock, Knock…..

###

…..Knock, Knock. Peter wrapped his knuckles against the Caffrey's apartment door.

"Hey ya Peter!" the young boy ripped open the door after the second knock and greeted the new arrivals with great excitement. Grabbing the agent by his elbow, Nick proceeded to drag Peter into the living room. "Come and see what I go-"

"Wow! Hold on a sec." Peter took a firm hold of the youngster's shirt and pulled him back. "Haven't you forgotten something, Junior?"

"Uh…" Nick looked momentarily puzzled before his brain switched onto what was being requested. "Oh yeah, good afternoon Elizabeth."

"Hi sweetie." The young boy grimace for all his worth as El leaned over and placed a loving kiss onto his cheek. "Where's your mommy?"

"In the kitchen, she said to go on through. Now Peter please," the boy practically begged, "can you come and see what I got?"

The older man chuckled, "Sure buddy. Show me what's got you so excited. Hey Kate!" He shouted across his shoulder as he was pulled past the kitchen.

"Hi Pete." Kate called back while continuing to chat with El.

"Where's your brother?" Peter asked as he allowed himself to be dragged down the hall into the bedroom.

"Don't know, around somewhere." The boy clambered onto the floor and dug around under his bed, eventually finding the objects of his search. He pulled out two baseball mitts and a baseball. Peter sat on the bottom bunk as the youngster sat up on his knees and proudly displayed his treasures. "Look Peter. Look what I got!" Nick deposited one of the brand new gloves onto Peter's lap. "Smell it!"

The agent hesitantly examined the submitted exhibit, hesitant because he couldn't help but notice the remnants of 'Property of PS 145' partially scratched out of the tan leather surface. "Mmmm, it smells great Nick. There's nothing like the wonderful aroma of a new leather glove to leave you wanting for the freshly cut grass of a baseball diamond." Peter squeezed his fingers into the junior sized mitt and pounded his fist into the pocket. "So buddy, where'd you get these?" He indicated the second glove that Nick was sporting on his hand.

The youngster grinned from ear to ear. "You're not going to believe this…"

_No,_ Peter imagined he wouldn't…

"…but last weekend Neal went to those markets on 48th Street and-"

"By himself? Did Neal go by himself?" Peter had strictly forbidden the nine year old from wandering around the city alone and had made particular reference to the markets. He was going to tan the youngster's butt when he got a hold of him!

"Yeah, uh…" Nick tried to think, not registering that he was getting his brother in deep shit as he recalled for Peter the details of last weekend. "Uh, Mom went to get some groceries and Neal went out for a little while and came back with these. Can you believe it? They only cost three dollars."

"For two brand new gloves and a ball?"

"Yeah, amazing huh?"

"Yeah, and you're right, I can't believe it."

Nick jumped up, "Come on Peter; let's see who can throw the fastest curve ball."

"Stop!"

The kid spun back looking seriously impatient.

"I'm sure dinner will be ready soon, but you can check with your mom first and see how long we've got. Is there somewhere down in the court yard that's a good spot for playing catch?"

Nick shrugged. "Dunno. We can just play in the hallway. That's what I thought we'd do." The kid tossed the ball in the air, only to have Peter reach out and grab it with his gloveless hand.

"We do not play ball in the house, ever, you understand?" he asked firmly, resulting in Nick rolling his eyes.

Peter reached out with his gloved hand and lighted swatted the boy across his butt.

Nick took a quick step backwards only to have Peter grab his wrist. "Nick?"

"I understand Peter," the kid threw his glove to the floor in temper. "We can't try out the new gloves!" He would have crossed his arms if someone didn't retain a tight grip on one of them.

"Nick," the agent sucked in a deep calming breath, resisting the urge to wallop some sense into the youngster, "I said you couldn't throw the ball in the house. If you pick up your glove sensibly and go and ask your mom, don't interrupt if she's speaking to El, wait politely, then ask her how long until dinner and if she says it's a little while away, we'll go down to the courtyard and find a spot to test out your new gloves."

The boy looked thoughtful, obviously trying to process all the directions with great difficulty.

"Nick, pick up your glove…without attitude please." Peter attempted to pre-empt any theatrics with the late addition to the instruction. He waited while Nick retrieved the glove before continuing. "Now, go and ask your mom how long dinner will be."

"Okay." Nick spun towards the hallway but found his wrist still firmly attached.

"If your mom is speaking to El, what should you do?"

"Get in her face and start using my annoying voice until she pays me some attention?"

Peter didn't find Nick's smart ass response at all amusing and he expressed that annoyance by reaching out and whacking the boy firmly across the back of his leg.

"Owww!" Nick rubbed at the spot. "Peter I was joking!"

"Wasn't funny. Want to try again?"

"Uh yes…" The kid thought for a moment, "Uh, I'm sorry, I can't remember the question."

"If your mom is talking," Peter's words were firm and clear, "what should you do?"

"Uh… wait patiently and don't interrupt."

"Good work buddy." Peter was about to release the boy when he remembered to ask, "Nicky, why did Neal get you these gloves? Did I miss a birthday?" He knew he hadn't.

"No silly," the boy shrugged, "No reason. He was just being nice, saw something I would like and got it for me…You know what Li'l Bro's like Peter."

"Yeah Junior, I do." Peter released the boy's wrist and gave him a light shove towards the door. "Go ask your mom," _while I find that brother of yours!_

###

As it turned out, Neal remained conspicuously absent until food was on the table and then miraculously appeared from out of nowhere. Peter had sent a pointed look in the youngster's direction between mouthfuls but the boy had not lifted his face to make eye contact, clearly accepting he was so positively busted.

"How did Nicky go with his pitching and catching, Peter?" Kate poured each of the adults a glass of wine from the bottle the Burke's had brought over. "He's been ever so excited about you coming over to test out the new gloves."

Peter fought the urge to discuss the illegal acquisition of said gloves, as he quickly reminded himself how inappropriate it would be in front of the twins. "Yeah well, I gotta tell you Kate, you have a champion on your hands. A few years from now all the batters are going to be trembling in their boots when they see young Caffrey here step up to the plate."

Nick's proud grin reached from ear to ear and stretched even further when the agent gave him a wink across the table. That sweet moment set the tone for more happy chatter as the extended family spoke of baseball and future dreams and who was better at this and that – all in good nature of course. Everyone seemed able to forget their concerns, if but for a short time, and enjoyed themselves as they devoured the food and emptied their glasses; everyone that was, excepting for one little boy who remained decidedly silent throughout the entire meal.

At the end of dinner, Kate proceeded to stack the dishes only to have Peter suggest, "Katie, please, the boys and I will take care of this. You cooked us all a delicious dinner now why don't you sit down with El and put your feet up for a while."

"I'm not going to refuse that irresistible offer." The young woman collected her wine glass and the near empty bottle and headed towards the lounge.

El began to follow closely carrying a plate sporting a selection of after-dinner assortments, when Nick's comment stopped her in her tracks. "Oh come on Peter, do we have to? Isn't cleaning the kitchen really wom-"

"Do you really want to even go there, kiddo?" Peter indicated his wife with a slight nod of his head.

El delivered a rather stern no-nonsense glare in the boy's direction, daring him to continue the disrespectful statement. Nick had felt Elizabeth's hand land on his butt enough times to not take the visual warning seriously. "Uh, I was going to say, how about I collect the plates."

"Good decision Buddy," Peter praised the boy as he began to round up the serving dishes, while giving the other child, who remained stock-still in his chair, a look that said, 'Yes, I'm ready to deal with you now.'

Neal hesitated momentarily before picking up the sauce bottles and trailing the agent in through the kitchen door, accepting he was left with little choice but to face the music. Peter directed him straight over to the sink to begin washing the dishes.

Nick plunked the plates on the counter and was about to disappear when Peter handed him a bag of trash and a small box of recyclables. "Take these down to the basement thanks Nick."

"Peeeter," groaned the boy. "There's no elevator from the ground level to the basement. Just stairs. Can't mom just take it out on her way out tomorrow…like she always does?"

The agent placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed slightly, eliciting a small wince from the youngster. "Junior, how old are you?"

"Nine," the kid shrugged, like what the hell did that have to do with the price of eggs?

"And do you know what nine year olds do?"

Nick opened his mouth to give the older man a smart answer but stopped himself as he recalled the stinging swat he'd received once already tonight for that very same offense. "I'm…I'm not sure."

"They help out around the house. They do chores for their parents so their parents don't have to be on the go twenty-four seven, doing the work for everyone living in the house."

"Yeah?" The boy screwed his nose up, not at all pleased to have his carefree bubble burst.

"Yeah, and you know what else? Nine year olds do chores so they can learn responsibility…."

Nick sighed, clearly unimpressed.

"…and from now on, it's going to be your responsibility, Nick to take the trash down to the basement every day."

"Peeeeter! That's not fair!"

"You're going to do it Nick, and you're not going to complain. And every time I'm speaking to your mom I'll be asking her, is Nick taking out the trash, and is he giving you a hard time about it, and if I hear that you have, I will make a special trip over here and you and I will have a nice little chat about responsibility. Got it?"

"Yeah whatever, I got it!" Peter gave him a firm warning glare, not at all impressed with the tone. "Uh, I meant, yes sir, trash every day. My responsibility. Got it."

"Much better." Peter crouched down to the boy's eye level. "Now Nicky, because you are nine, I'm going to give you and Neal nine dollars every week for doing your chores. That way you can save it up to buy," Peter turned and emphasized the last word specifically for the junior klepto, "from the shops something you've been wanting, like maybe that guitar you've had your eye on for a while."

"Nine bucks aint going to go far Peter."

"No, but if you save it up, how many weeks would it take before you had $50?"

"I'm not good at math," he admitted while shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes you are Nicky. At nine dollars a week, how many weeks before you have $50?"

"Uh," the kid looked over Peter's shoulder before suggesting, "Four… point… three… one weeks?"

"Correct," Peter sighed, knowing exactly where that answer had sprung from! "Neal…"

"Yes sir?"

"How are those dishes coming?"

"Almost done Uncle Peter."

"Okay Nick," Peter pushed himself up, using the counter for support, "we'll talk more about your pocket money later in the week. Take that trash down, then it's shower and bed."

"Bed! Oh come on Peter! We don't have school tomorrow and…and it's way too early!"

Peter couldn't help grinning at the boy's woeful pleading, "We'll see buddy. You get your jobs done, get ready for bed and maybe, just maybe we might have time for a game of Battleship."

"W'hooo!" Nick cheered brightly. "I didn't think you were ever going to verse me again after I bet you last time for the tenth time in a row!"

"Get!" Peter pointed to the door as Nick scampered out of sight, the older man pretending to be seriously annoyed.

Of course there was no pretending required, irritation settling into his features, as he turned back to the younger twin and waited while the kid took an excruciatingly ridiculous length of time to wash a single plate. Finally, after the design had been all but rubbed off, Neal placed the plate in the drainer before wiping his hands dry on the tea-towel. "All done," he announced as he dropped his gaze and made tracks for the door.

He didn't get far. Peter scooped up the little guy, before he could make good on his escape, and unloaded him onto the kitchen counter. "We need to talk Neal."

"Sure Uncle Peter. How has work been lately? I saw on the news that the Manhattan branch of the NBA bank is being investigated for…"

"Neal."

"Yes sir?"

"We need to talk about the rules we have in place to keep you boys safe and out of trouble, rules young man which you have chosen to blatantly disregard."

"Oh, well I can explain that quite easily, Uncle Peter, it's all a misunderstanding. You see Mom went out last Saturday to get some groceries and I found her handbag in her room when I was putting some washing away and I thought she must have left without it so I ran after her but when I got to the store, she wasn't there so I made my way back home and on the way I passed the markets and I saw as I was walking by these great gloves-"

"Neal!" Peter's tone shut down the boy in mid-sentence, "You're making this situation a whole lot worse. You're taking something that's already brought about enough trouble and compounding it with a bunch of lies. What have I told you about lying to me?"

The boy slumped on the bench, knowing full well that what worked with his mom never stood a chance with the FBI agent. Why had he bothered?

"Neal, what have I told you about lying?"

"That, of everything I could do, it is at the very top of the 'bad list'."

"Because…" Peter prompted.

"Because people that care about you, that are important to you, lose trust and faith in you if they can't believe what you are saying."

"Good, so we don't need to go over that lesson, do we Neal?" Peter lifted the boy's chin so he could deliver his point across loud and clear.

"No sir, we don't."

"Then let's start again shall we… Neal, where did the gloves come from?"

"I guess originally they came from China."

Peter pulled the boy down off the counter, bent him over his hip and gave him two particularly hard swats to his backside before lifting him back onto the kitchen bench.

Neal was busy reeling, trying to get his head around what had just happened, as Peter continued without missing a beat, "Let me try again…where did you get the gloves, young man?"

"Uh… from school," the boy mumbled, understanding implicitly what his little confession was going to get him. "I was walking past the P.E. room and someone had just delivered several boxes and dumped them outside the room - a new shipment of sporting equipment. The gloves and balls were just sitting on top, almost like they were asking to be taken."

"Neal," Peter sighed, exasperation undeniably evident in his voice, "We've been over this time and time again. You're going to end up getting yourself into some serious trouble. Add that to the fact that it's just plain wrong to steal, you don't take something that's not yours. At some point, young man, you have to understand that you can't do this anymore. It's going to get you in lots of trouble someday," Peter pursed his lips, resulting in the boy squirming with discomfort, "but tell me, Neal, what's it going to get you tonight?"

"Uncle Peter, I'm sorry, please, I wasn't thinking. I saw the gloves and…well, I didn't go out of my way to take them…"

"You just couldn't pass up a golden opportunity?"

"Ah, something like that." The young boy knew it was a lost cause but persisted despite the foregone conclusion. "Look, I promise, I will be far more thoughtful and responsible if you can please be compassionate enough to let me off with a stern warning, Uncle Peter."

The older man rolled his eyes. He knew of no other nine year olds that spoke like that. Most were more likely to use words akin to his brother's language of choice. "Neal, I gave you a warning last time," Peter sighed, "It's not going to happen again tonight."

"Uncle-"

"Neal, let's talk about the other rule you broke." It was time to bring this discussion to an end.

The youngster displayed his best, 'what other rule' face, feigning ignorance, a talent he had fine-tuned to perfection over the years.

"What have I told you about roaming the city streets by yourself?"

Neal thought about it for a moment before finally releasing a deep defeated sigh, "Not to."

"Neal…," Peter encouraged.

"I'm not to walk around the city by myself under any circumstance because it is unsafe and there'll be no one to assist me if someone with bad intentions wishes to harm me….but Uncle Peter, I was just taking Mom's-"

"You tell me a lie one more time young man and I will find something in that drawer to take to your backside." Peter pointed to the drawer harboring all the kitchen utensils. "Why did you really go out by yourself?"

Neal scooted back on the bench, a token retreat to supposedly more secure territory. "Bored, that's all. I asked Nicky to go with me but he was watching some stupid game on TV."

"Then why didn't you go with your Mom?"

Neal shrugged, "Spending an hour standing behind Mom while she compared the prices of washing powder or worked out the best value sandwich spread, mmm, why I didn't go? I don't know what I was thinking, really." The young boy gulped audibly upon seeing the less than impressed frown appearing on Peter's face. "Ah, honestly, Uncle Peter, I just felt like going for a walk, to see what was happening in the neighborhood, I was bored doing nothing at home."

"And you happen to walk right past the markets I have explicitly banned you from going anywhere near?"

Neal swallowed hard, unable to conjure up an adequate excuse, leaving him with no other choice than to confirm Peter's allegations. "Yes sir, I went to the markets."

"Neal," Peter began pacing the restricted space, "You know I don't want you going there."

"I know…Too many temptations."

"Exactly, and I don't supposed there's any chance you're going to tell me what you 'fancied' while you were there?"

"Well, since you're asking, I did 'fancy' this amazing Patek Philippe eighteen carat vintage pocket watch circa 1919. Uncle Peter, you should have seen it. It's so rare to find one-"

"Neal! Please tell me you didn't steal it?"

"I didn't steal the Patek Phillippe, Uncle Peter."

"Well, that's something at…" Peter had a sudden thought, "Did you steal any other pocket watches?"

"Nope, no pocket watches."

"How about-"

"I didn't steal anything Uncle, I promise."

Peter believed him. But he also believed the boy never went anywhere near those markets without getting up to some kind of mischief. If the kid hadn't taken anything while he was there, Peter felt it would be a safe bet to assume the youngster had gone to the markets to sell something to one of his 'contacts'. Peter was yet to prove that it had happened before it but it was only a matter of time. "Okay Neal, but you did go there, and that's outright defiance of the rules we set for you. You broke three of our rules all up, young man," Peter lifted the boy down of the counter, "so now you can go to your room and wait."

Neal understood with experienced clarity, exactly what that particular instruction implied. "Uncle Peter, please can't I have another chance."

"Go before any more of your transgressions come to light." Neal high-tailed it to the door as Peter called out in his wake, "And I want you to think about why we have those rules while you are waiting."

###

Peter eased himself into the armchair and ran his hands through his hair, waiting for El and Kate to wrap up their discussion on the new season collection of blouses and skirts that had arrived at Bloomingdales during the past week. Apparently there were a number of particular pieces every woman just had to have. Peter, personally, couldn't have possibly cared less. It all seemed so terribly overrated from his perspective. Still, deep down he knew he should really pay attention lest he have to listen to it all again when El's birthday rolled around!

While waiting for a break in conversation, young Nicky tore in through the front door, dumped a box on the ground and tore off to his room. El and Kate discontinued their chat, distracted by the commotion. Before they could ask, Nick had raced back into the living area, brandishing the battleship game, which he made fast work of tipping out all over the table.

"Nick!" Peter called out across the room.

"Yeah?"

"What have you forgotten?"

The young boy appeared to be thinking. "Um…Thank you Mom for a wonderful dinner?"

The adults couldn't help grin as Katie replied, "You're welcome sweetie."

"And what else Nick? I'll give you a clue; I said maybe after you have…there might be time for a game of battleship."

"Oh yeah, have a shower and get dressed for bed," he remember as he slapped his palm on his forehead and made his way back down the hall.

"And wash your hair please Nick, I've asked you every night this week and sooner or later I'm going to find a bird nesting in it!"

"Mom!" Nick yelled over his shoulder before disappearing out of sight, "I get it. I'll wash my hair, no need to nag!"

Kate turned back to the others, "You wouldn't think I'd have to ask him at all. You'd think he'd want to remove all the gunk and dirt from his hair. It can't feel good."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure it's going to be at least another six or seven years till he actually notices on his own. And then you won't be able to keep him out of the shower, so you should enjoy it while you can." The trio laughed for a moment or two before sobering up. "Kate, I need to talk to you about the boys."

The younger woman sighed deeply, "I can pretty much guess what about."

"Yeah?"

"I may be slack and useless at times, as well as being a hopeless mother but I'm not ignorant, Peter."

"Oh honey, please don't say that about yourself," El patted the younger woman on the arm.

"I'm just telling it how it is El." Kate shook her head, "I know you're going to tell me that Neal's been back to the markets and wandering the streets by himself again, Peter. I try to stop it, but you know how it is with work and all, I just don't seem to be able to keep on top of it. I turn around, and Neal's gone. He just disappears and seems to have an uncanny knack of reappearing on my radar when I've got my hands full or in the middle of something that needs immediate attention. I've got to tell you, it's draining, most days I feel like I can barely keep my head above water."

"I understand where you're coming from Kate, and I sympathize with you. I know that when El and I are looking after the boys it's exhausting. We practically collapse into bed each night and that's with the two of us sharing the load. But Kate, this is important, so we need to do what we have to in order to keep the boys safe and out of trouble. Nine year olds cannot be out on their own on the streets of New York. Too many bad things could happen…and do happen, so we need to put measures in place to ensure the boys are not in that situation to begin with."

"I just, I really am no good at this whole mothering thing. The boys are probably better off without me."

"Don't be silly, sweetie. You're doing great. You've said how much you like your new job at the bus depot. The house is looking better than it ever has. When Neal rang me through the week he was happy about getting selected to represent his school at the inter-district debating competition next month. It all seems to be going so well. And you know, of course that Peter and I are always there to support you with anything that doesn't go so well."

Kate sighed, "I know El. It's just I hate having to ask you all the time to bail me out. I'd feel quite pathetic calling you and saying, 'Peter, Neal's wandered off again, please come and speak to the boy, or, Junior's throwing a hissy-fit, can you come over and rescue him before I wring his neck.'"

"Kate, please make that call. I'd rather a thousand of those calls to one that would start with, 'Peter, something awful has happened to one of the twins.'"

"Okay Peter, I'll try, I'll try harder."

The young woman's commitment sounded defeated and Peter wondered if he'd made any progress whatsoever. Unfortunately, this particular discussion was far from finished. "You know Kate, early last month while we were looking after the boys, during your stay…in hospital?"

"That's a nice way of putting it," Kate smiled sadly. "Yes, while I was in rehab…"

"Yeah, well you remember me telling you after you'd been home a few days that Neal had been in some trouble at school. He'd been suspended for taking two handbags from the teacher's lounge."

"Yes, and you said that the school had been considerably lenient because of what was going on at home. As I recall, you also let him off with a just a stern warning."

"That's right Kate, but part of that warning consisted a firm caution to Neal that the next time he stole something he'd earn himself a very sound hiding."

"So, what, did he steal something at the markets?" Kate was trying to connect the dots.

"Kate, the brand new baseball gloves Nicky's been twirling around, where did you think they came from?"

The young woman shrugged, "I didn't really give it any thought. I saw him with them, but it didn't cross my mind to ask where he'd got them from."

Peter took a deep breath and shot a knowing look at his wife. El was the mediator, more than ready to step in if Peter started going off his brain at Kate for her continual substandard parenting. Add that to the fact that El would chastise her husband all the way home gave Peter more than enough incentive to bit his tongue. "Kate, Neal stole the gloves, and a ball, from his school."

"Oh, I would have thought if anything he'd stolen them from the markets."

_Urrrrgh!_ Peter could have easily shaken his head in disbelief, rolled his eyes in frustration or even screamed something along the lines of, 'Kate, have you actually managed to kill off every brain cell in that silly head of yours!' But instead he simply left that subject well alone and moved on, accepting that some things in life were a futile cause. "Kate, Neal needs to be punished for wandering the city streets on his own, going to the markets after we've specifically forbidden him, and for stealing school property. Now I can go in and take him over my knee or…perhaps you should. Either way, the boy needs a good walloping to discourage any further repeat indiscretions."

"Uh, I don't know Peter…Whatever you think." The young woman's voice was filled with indecision. "Maybe I should do it, I know he's been going out by himself…I can't believe he would steal school equipment especially after the handbags…what's the boy thinking?"

"Kate, Neal's waiting. Are you going in or would you like me to, you know…"

Kate dropped her head and nodded. "Yes…please, if you don't mind, I think I'd just make the situation worse."

Peter rose from his seat, gathering strength he no longer possessed and confidence he no longer felt. His heart to hearts with Kate always managed to zap the life blood of his resolve. He drifted down the hallway, unable to offer Kate so much as a token comforting phrase – he'd leave that one to El. As he approached Neal's bedroom door, he collided with a freshly showered hyperactive youngling, with dripping wet hair, a huge cheeky grin on his face and one of the misappropriated baseball gloves in his hands.

"Hey Peter! You done stalling? I've taken out all the trash, I've had a shower, I washed my hair, with shampoo…actually first the hand soap by accident then the shampoo so it should be really clean and I won't need to do it again for ages. Can we play battleship now, please!"

"In a minute Junior." Peter patted the boy on his head, but quickly removed it and wiped his wet hand on the side of his pants. "First I need you to dry your hair, and then you can go and set up the game. I just need to chat with Neal for a minute or two but I'll be out soon okay buddy?"

"Yeah, but no more stalling after that. I know you don't want to lose but I sure do want to win."

Peter smiled and took another step towards the boys' bedroom door, stopping once again as Nick tugged on his arm.

"Uh, almost forgot, here." Nick handed over the glove he'd been holding. Peter raised his eyebrows hoping the kid wasn't expecting another round of catch. "I want you to have this one, Peter. I don't need two gloves. If you have your own, you can practice and whenever I come over, I'll bring mine with me and you can teach me how to throw a curve ball."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, "That's a really neat idea Nicky. Thank you for the glove. I'll be sure to practice so I'm ready for when you come over next… Now, go dry your hair before your shirt gets soaked."

Nick groaned with mock frustration, "Okay, don't nag, hair, dry, got it."

"Good." Peter watched the boy dart back into the bathroom and leaned back against the wall, giving himself a moment to contemplate what he needed to do. Unfortunately, whenever he thought too hard, his mind began a serious internal battle. Did he know what he was doing? Did he even have a clue? Did he have the right to interfere? Did it make any difference anyway? All questions he couldn't answer, could never answer with any conviction. He wished, for the umpteenth time in the past several years, for the rule book, the rule book of the parental kind, the one that gave all the answers to all the questions, the one that said what you should do and what you shouldn't. Of course it really was wishful thinking, was there even such a book? Irrespective, they'd be no rule book tonight, not even a scrap piece of paper with some simple guidelines. He'd have to go with what always guided his decisions regarding Kate and the boys – his gut. A paternal instinct to do what he felt was right. As he pushed himself off the wall and turned the handle on the boys' door, he hoped his gut wasn't about to fail him tonight.

Neal looked up from his spot on the bed. His shoulders resting against the head-board, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees that were pulled to his chest, his eyes already damp and red from pre-emptive tears. Looking up at the older man with sad, wistful eyes, Neal's gaze gave Peter cause to question once again the validity of his actions. Making a conscious effort to ignore those piercing blue eyes, Peter stepped into the bedroom and…and ran smack bang into a solid oak drawer, a drawer that had been pulled out and left out, a drawer containing books, pencils, cards and…and board games! Peter reached for his leg as a sharp searing pain shot through his knee cap. Neal sprang off the bed and held out a comforting hand, "You okay?"

Peter closed his eyes to blink away the pain and nodded, but his verbal reply said otherwise, "Yeowwww!"


	4. When All is Said and Done

**Author's Note: **This episode is written especially for my friend Sue, who so kindly edits my stories for all those horrible little errors I would never pick-up even if I were to read it a thousand times! Thank you Sue for all you do. :)

###

**Episode 4: **_When All is Said and Done_

"You okay?" Neal reached over the back of his chair and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I gave my knee one final rub and righted myself while willing the pain to subside. "Dad, is your knee okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a pinched nerve. Sorry to worry you all." I took in three concerned pairs of eyes, not bothering to glance over at the judge and secretary whom no doubt had stopped to stare at all the fuss. "I'm fine, seriously, now will you all please calm down," I pleaded at a volume intended for my family's ears only. To be honest though, I was far from fine. My knee was shooting out an excruciating pain that I could feel from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

The doctor had warned me it would take a good six months to experience a full recovery and there'd be days along the way where I'd want to just sit down and cry from the discomfort. I'd been given prescription-only pain killers for such times and perhaps I should have heeded the warning bells when my knee had given out half-way down the stairs this morning or when I stepped out to the car and my knee had cramped up in the chilly early winter air but no, I had to be all stubborn and talk myself into the fact that I was above that. Normally it wouldn't matter, a few stumbling blocks were par for the course, but did it have to be today while I was standing in the middle of the court room, requiring the judge to believe I was both physically and mentally capable of restoring order to the wayward behavior of the two young men appearing before him. I winced once more as yet another spasm made its way around my leg.

"Agent Burke." The judge spoke around the obstruction of the secretary as she passed a file folder across his desk.

"Yes your honor?"

"Are you alright Agent Burke? Do you need me to call a recess?"

"Oh no your honor. I must've pinched a nerve or something in my knee. I'm fine," I lied once again while considering how I'd succumbed to a personal low - lying in court to a judge. Something about 'perjury' sprang to mind!

"Very well, but please, have a seat. There's no need to be standing up for this session."

I nodded my acknowledgement and gingerly lowered myself into the chair, hoping I wouldn't make another scene if my knee gave out completely.

While I was settling, the judge opened the freshly delivered file folder and studied it intently. My family and I felt compelled to remain silent during the five or so minutes he took to read over the notes. The short reprieve actually suited me just fine and while I'm certain they were desperate to, neither El nor the boys asked if I'd recovered from my little uncontrolled outburst of agony. Regrettably, they'd be plenty of time for that later!

Finally the judge looked over the top of his glasses with his beady little eyes, giving each boy the once over before piercing me with his no-nonsense judicial stare. "So Agent Burke, there's an application here, submitted through your supervisor Senior Agent Reece Hughes requesting that Neal Caffrey undertake a work supervision program as a CI in the White Collar Division."

"That's correct your honor." Reece and I had worked for ages hashing out that particular deal.

"Does Mr. Caffrey have any experience?"

###

… "Experience?" Agent Reece Hughes screwed up his face, like he always did when he wanted to impress upon his underlings he had the power to care less. "Nah. No experience."

"And you want me to babysit him for a whole week!" Peter groaned in pure exasperation.

"Yep. Starting Monday."

"Hell Hughes, the kid must have really twisted your arm to have you personally come in here to beg me to take him under my talented wing. Normally you throw these work experience cases straight down to the Permanent Records Department."

"Firstly, I'm not begging, I'm telling. Secondly, nope, no twisting of my arm. In fact, the kid doesn't even want to be here. Wants to join the armed forces during their next intake."

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly confused. "Then why the hell-"

"How the hell would I know, Peter? Look, he's Bancroft's stepson. Bancroft wants him to at least consider joining the agency. The boy's hell bent on the armed forces and I really don't think Bancroft has a problem with that. Mrs. Bancroft on the other hand! I'm guessing the wife's in Bancroft's ear."

"So what am I supposed to do? Jump through hoops, candy-coat the agency?" The agent waved his hand in the air, clearly frustrated.

"Whatever you want Peter. Do what you have to but under no circumstances are you allowed to let Clinton Jones walk out of this office at the end of next week without a signed and sealed completed application for Quantico."

"Perfect!" Peter yelled out in his best sarcastic tone at the retreating back of his superior. _Awesome_, he groaned once more, while continuing the contemptuous thought processes long after he was alone. Another chore to add to his already ridiculously extensive list. He stretched back in his chair and rubbed tired eyes with the heels of his palms. He'd been reading files for way too long – time for a coffee break. Picking up his coffee mug he headed out the door only to look up to see a pair of familiar faces standing nervously just inside the front entrance to his department. He jogged down to greet his visitors.

"Kate, everything okay?" The young woman looked flustered and stressed and Peter couldn't help notice the iron grip she had wrapped around her young son's arm. Peter suspected it was Neal, not only from the button down shirt and neat casual pants but also from the anxious appearance of his face. His brother would undoubtedly be sporting a cocky smirk if placed in the same situation. "Kate, where's Nick?" It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that the absent youngster was missing in action, having been caught up in any manner of problem scenarios, or that perhaps Kate had finally snapped, and, who knows… eaten her offspring?

"Nick's out with friends…Look I'm sorry to bother you at work, this was a bad idea." Kate stepped back towards the elevators pulling her son behind her.

"Wait," Peter reached out and placed a warm, caring hand on her shoulder, gently turning her back towards his office. "I was about to have a break, Kate. You and Neal head up to my office and I'll bring us up a coffee. Do you want a juice, sport?" The agent asked the young boy who was yet to be released from the arm-lock.

"No thank you Uncle Peter." Neal was unwilling to look him in the eye. Clearly something was up. Peter was thankful Kate had come in to see him. He'd always told her to call in anytime. It didn't matter if he was at work or home, the way he saw it, if he or El could help Kate out before things got serious, it was well worth attending to the problem without delay.

Peter walked into his office carrying a couple of steaming coffees and a cookie for Neal. The agent couldn't help noticing Kate's hands shaking slightly as she reached for the mug. The boy's hands remained in his lap as his eyes studied the floor. "So, what brings you both to this neck of the woods?" Peter took a sip of his coffee trying to create an air of casualness, not wanting Kate to feel intimidated or to be easily frightened off.

The young woman hesitated before reaching into her purse and retrieving a selection of wallets and purses, which she placed on the agent's desk. Peter sighed inwardly and waited patiently for an explanation to accompany the exhibit but when none was forthcoming, he made an educated guess. Leaning forward and picking up one of the wallets, he flipped it open to where it revealed the owner's driver's license. "Callum J North. Mmmm." He selected another. "Mrs. Wendy Preston… Carla Hawker… You know these people Neal?" The youngster lifted his gaze nervously as the agent gave him a pointed look.

"No sir." The boy's whispered reply could barely be heard.

Peter waved his hand across the desk. "Where did your mom find these Neal?"

The young boy sunk further into his seat, hoping desperately that a hole may appear sometime soon in the floor that he could sink mercifully into.

"Neal!" Agent Burke's tone destroyed that dream quick smart.

"They were uh; they were in a box under my bed."

"I found them this afternoon while I was vacuuming." Kate's voice sounded as uneasy as her sons.

Peter wanted to tell Kate how happy he was to hear that she was back on her feet doing the housework – last week she'd been miserably depressed and El had spent a fair bit of time around at the Caffrey's house, supporting the younger woman through her latest bout of the blues. He tucked away the positive encouragement for a later time when Neal wasn't in the room and attended to the current unpleasant business. "Where did you get them from Neal? You've obviously been out picking pockets again, but which area? The Mall? The subway? The markets?"

"Mostly the mall, Uncle Peter."

"Neal," Peter pointed a stern finger at the boy, "You know what we call that, here at the FBI and well, everywhere else for that matter, don't you?"

"Yes sir."

"What?"

"Stealing."

"Yes, that's exactly what we call it. And do you know what happens to people who steal Neal?"

"Yes sir."

Of course the boy knew. Even if Peter hadn't explained it to the kid more than a hundred times already, he'd still know. Peter released a deep breath, stood up and began pacing the room, trying desperately to calm his growing exasperation. "Tell me what happens Neal?"

"They go to prison."

"That's right. Do you want to go to prison young man?"

"No sir."

"I wouldn't have thought so. Prisons are not nice places Neal. They are full of mean, nasty people and you get locked in a little cell and are only allowed out to eat and exercise. Believe me, you do not want to be put in prison, ever! Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, because I don't want you to go to prison either. It would make me and your mom and Nick and Aunty El very sad."

Neal nodded his understanding and awaited the next round of the lecture.

Peter returned to stand once again behind his desk but didn't concern himself with sitting down. Instead, he rested his knuckles on the table surface and leaned down into the young boy's personal space. "Where's the money Neal? I'm certain these wallets and purses contained a considerable amount of money when you first took them… Am I correct?"

"Yes sir."

"So, where is it? Where is Mr. North's lottery winnings or Mrs. Preston's pension money?"

Neal considered appropriate responses for the loaded question, eventually deciding to go with the one and only answer. "I spent it."

"All of it?"

"Yes sir."

"What on?"

"Lots of different things. Junior and I went to the movies, spent money at the candy bar, and went to the arcade after. I bought a new set of paints, a couple of books. I don't remember where it all went."

Peter sighed deeply as he rested his hands on his hips and took a moment to gaze out the window while gathering his thoughts. "Neal, I've lost count of the amount of times we've been over this very same topic. I should have an app made for your IPOD so I can just make you sit in the corner and listen to the same speech." The frustrated agent shook his head. "No, actually that won't be necessary, do you know why young man?"

"You're going to lock me away?"

Peter rolled his eyes, knowing full well the boy had only said that to swing some sympathy back in his direction. "Nope, but let me tell you anyway. I won't have to give this speech again because you are never ever going to steal again." Deep down Peter knew how ridiculous that statement was but he was angry and he was frustrated and ever one knows that parents make ridiculous statements when they are angry and frustrated and hell, he wasn't even a parent!

"No Uncle Peter, I won't. I promise," Neal replied hopefully, wondering unrealistically if the older man would be happy to leave it at.

"Good, because I'm going to keep you so busy you won't have time to wander around malls and subway stations looking for trouble. Kate, when do the boys go back to school?"

"Ahhh," The young woman was pressed to think, "Ah, they've got tomorrow and all of next week left of their vacation…Is that right squirt?"

"Yes mother," Neal replied in a rather unpleasant tone. It irked him no to end whenever his mom called him squirt. She seemed to think it endearing, being the younger of her two boys. Neal simply found it degrading.

"Right, then tomorrow morning, can you have Neal here by nine a.m. Kate?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good."

"What for Uncle Peter?"

"You are going to spend the rest of the school vacation working for me."

Neal groaned, "Every day?"

"Yep. I have files that need sorting, shelves that need dusting, coffee to be made, errands to be run – within the office of course, paper work to be stapled," the agent looked around the room wondering about the limitless possibilities.

"And, uh," should he ask, "How much will I be paid for a week's work, Uncle?"

"Paid? Oh no, kiddo, there'll be no pay. It's just work experience."

"But I don't need work experience Uncle Peter. I have a broad knowledge of the way businesses operate already."

"Neal, I'm certain you are more business savvy than any other eleven year old in this city, but my motive is not to bring you up to speed on the operational workings of this office, it's to keep you busy remember. If you're up here dusting shelves, you're not down there," Peter pointed an intolerant finger out the window, "swiping wallets out of unsuspecting New Yorkers back pockets."

"But Uncle Peter-"

"No, end of discussion. Nine a.m. tomorrow morning sharp. Don't be late."

"Yes sir…May I be excused, I'll wait quietly in the foyer while you and mom have a chance and catch up if you like."

Peter allowed a slight grin to cross his face; the child was a born con. "Neal."

"Yes sir?"

"You know we're not done here."

"B-But Uncle, I think that work experience program is a wonderful idea. I'm certain it's bound to keep me out of mischief and it'll be a fantastic learning opportunity for me, in fact I consider myself to be extremely fortunate."

Peter ignored the boy's attempt at misdirection and pulled open the desk drawer. Reaching in, he retrieved a solid wooden ruler, much to young Neal's alarm and made his way over to the side table. "Come here please Neal," he ordered while pulling out one of the straight back chairs and taking a seat.

"W-why?"

"You know why. We're not going to have you stealing without there being some form of consequence."

"Yeah, but the work experience? Isn't that a consequence?"

"No, that's a preventative. This is your consequence." Peter tapped the ruler on the desk top, indicating for the boy to join him.

"Look, I'm so terribly sorry Uncle Peter. I'll pay the money back."

"How? You suddenly have a savings account I don't know about?...Besides, that's not the point. You shouldn't have stolen the wallets in the first place. It's wrong, it's against the law and if you were older, you would be charged and possibly made to serve time at a juvenile detention center. Now you know that's not going to happen so let me tell you what is," Peter patted his lap. "I'm going to turn you over my knee and give your backside a good walloping, something I've warned you will happen each and every time you are foolish enough to take something that doesn't belong to you."

"B-but Uncle Peter. Y-you can't do it here. Someone might see." _Someone might hear._

"And if they do, all they'll think is he must have done something very naughty to be getting a spanking. Now if you're not happy about that, there's a simple solution. Don't steal!"

"Mom!" Neal tried despite knowing how futile that avenue was.

Kate responded by nudging her son out of his seat. "Neal, you've only yourself to blame."

Peter was growing tired of waiting, "Neal, if I have to come and get you, I'm going to make it worth my while."

Recognizing the inevitable, the young boy dragged his feet across the short distance to stand nervously beside his surrogate father. "Uncle, do you have to use that?" Neal indicated the offending instrument of torture Peter had placed on the table.

"Actually I don't. If you would rather I pull down your pants and spank your bare bottom with my hand, I'm fine with that also."

Neal cringed. It had been a while since Uncle Peter had spanked his bare backside. There was no hard and fast rule, but it seemed as the boys got older, Peter was more likely to smack them over their pants. Of course, the allowance of the protective layer came at a cost. Peter had begun to use an old well-worn slipper that packed quite a wallop. Neal had experienced it first hand on a number of occasions, the last instance just a few months back for, what else if not stealing! Neal had 'borrowed' Peter's cell phone because his had run out of credit and he 'didn't want to have to steal a prepaid card' so he thought he'd do the 'right thing and borrow Uncle Peters.' Unfortunately for the boy, and in particular his backside, he forgot to ask if he could 'borrow' it in the first place and kept it until it was discovered three days later. Peter was driving Nick to Little League practice and recognized his unique ring tone going off in the back seat. Neal had forgotten to change the ring tone and/or put the cell on silent. Either way, one pointed glare from Peter in the rear view mirror told him told the youngster he was in serious strife.

"Neal?" Peter asked again, "Which is it to be?"

_Neither!_ "I'm not…I don't want you to lose my pants Uncle Peter. It's…it's embarrassing." Neal looked back at his mother, clearly having reached the age where modesty was a priority.

"Suit yourself." The decision made, Peter tugged the boy over his lap. "You know Neal, there's not a lot of privacy to be had in prison. Because of hazardous and nonstandard circumstances in prisons, inmates are made to shower in full view of the prison guards. Perhaps you should consider the reality of getting caught, the next time you are squeezing your way through a crowded subway station."

Peter doubted the boy would take note of the privacy lecture. Past experience had taught him that Neal stopped paying attention the minute he was bent over to be spanked. The youngster always shed tears long before the first whack - something about his brain registering that he was about to experience a stinging backside not gelling well with his subconscious. Pulling Neal close into his hip, Peter picked up the ruler and was about to bring it down when the boy flung his hand back for protection.

"Neal, move your hand please."

The boy made no attempt to comply, his tears continuing to spill freely off his cheek, disappearing into the carpet below. Anyone walking in right now would have to assume the kid had already been punished.

"Neal, if I have to hold your hand I will."

When the youngster refused to budge, Peter took his little bony arm and held it firmly against his back. He'd rather not have to restrain the child, but at the same time, he didn't want to chance whacking him across his knuckles with the ruler. Once Neal was secure, he raised the ruler and brought it down, around a dozen times, all in quick succession. The spanking was over in less than forty seconds and Peter had the boy back on his feet before he'd even had time to register that it had begun. But, despite the expeditious nature of the hiding, the kid still cried his eyes out and rubbed exhaustively at the sting radiating from his backside like he'd received the walloping of his life.

"Neal," Peter put his hand behind the youngster's neck and pulled him in close until the boy's head was resting against his shoulder. "Neal, please stop stealing, before you get yourself into some serious trouble."

"Y-yes s-sir," the kid blubbered. "I won't do it again."

"That's all I want to hear. Now, why don't you head down to the bathrooms and wash your face. Would you like me to go with you?"

Neal shook his head, "I'll be fine by myself." Wiping his hands across his face, he dropped his head and ambled out of the office, heading in the direction of the bathrooms.

Peter returned the ruler to the drawer and sat down opposite Kate. The young woman couldn't meet Peter's eyes. The two friends sat in silence for a good five minutes. What was there to say? In actual fact, there were so many things to say…but would it make any difference? If Peter had learnt anything during the past several years, it was that he could lecture and advise and shout all he wanted but the young woman was never ever going to get a parent of the year award.

He often wondered what Kate would have been like if Nicco were still alive. Before her husband passed away, Kate appeared to have it together. She was confident and organized and well-balanced and a loving mother. Could the loss of one person cause so much change in another? The question bothered him deeply, particularly since he carried a loaded weapon to work every day and his job description included the take down of undesirable criminals, also with access to said weapons. How would El cope if anything were to happen to him? If anything were to happen to El, hell, he doubted he could go on living. When all was said and done, Kate probably coped ten times better than he ever would under the same circumstances. But all being well, he prayed he'd never have to find out.

"Peter," the agent had been so caught up in his thoughts, he'd almost forgot he wasn't alone. "Can I, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Kate opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind, carrying on with what she'd been doing pretty much since she'd stepped in through the door - fiddling with her purse.

"Kate? What do you want to ask?"

The young woman shrugged. "It's not important. It's…I'm sure you'll say it's a bad idea."

Peter had to work hard at the overwhelming desire he had to slam his head onto the desk top. "Kate, please, ask me whatever you want."

The young woman glanced back at the door, presumably to check that her son wasn't about to re-enter before reaching into her handbag and pulling out a form. Peter relaxed upon seeing that it wasn't yet another misappropriated object. Unbelievably however, the standard A4 piece of paper brought the agent even greater anxiety than a dozen stolen wallets would have. Peter took the proffered sheet and reached for his glass of water. Suddenly his mouth was very dry. "Kate…this uh, this is an official document handing over legal custody of the boys to El and I."

"Yes Peter. I went through Legal Aide at my employment center. A lovely lady by the name of Sue…Sue, uh, I can't remember her surname, anyway, she helped me sort through the paper work. She said it would still need to go through a judge, but with this official documentation it would save the inconvenience of the typical red tape."

Peter's heart began to palpitate at an unhealthy rate. "Katie, I'm confused, did something happen? Is something going on? Please tell me you're not using again."

"No, I'm clean. I think that's why this has been bothering me so much. I can think straight, and boy have I been doing a lot thinking lately."

"About what?"

"Peter, if something happens to me, or even if I just become, how do I say this," Kate waved her arm while she thought of the appropriate words, "totally incompetent as a mother," she laughed realizing how understated that observation was, "let's just say for arguments sake, even more incompetent than usual, then I need to know you won't have any troubles taking legal guardianship of the boys."

"Okay Kate, let's put aside the hopeless mother story line for a moment and look at the worst case scenario. Isn't your sister listed in your will as the next of kin for the boys?"

"No."

"What, El and I are?" Peter was more than a little surprised.

"I, ah, I thought you'd just assume it was the two of you. You're the glaringly obvious choice."

"No, I imagined it would be your sister Sally. If I recall correctly she's got quite a nice place over on Staten Island."

"Yeah, that's right. A large spacious four bedroom home, nice yard, beautiful garden, new model SVU and oh yeah, last time we chatted, she asked me how my son was doing. I know they look the same but come on, you'd think she'd remember that there were two of them."

"Yeah, you'd think so. They certainly cause more trouble than one lone little boy would ever be to on his own….So sister Sally was scratched from the list?"

"There was never a list Peter. It was only ever just you and El and the last time I checked, one set of names does not constitute a list."

"I honestly don't know what to say Katie." Peter reached across the desk and took the young woman's hand in his. "I suppose, first of all, thank you. Thank you for thinking of El and I as…"

"Family?"

"Yeah, family."

"Peter, you and El, you're so much more than family. Family is obligated by birth to be a part of each other's lives. You and El, you're much more to me than that. Without the two of you, I would have given up long ago."

"Well I certainly hope not, but thank you anyway." Peter patted the young woman's hand then rose to his feet. "Kate…I guess I'm concerned as to why you're taking such an extreme measure here." Peter reached back to the desk and picked up the guardianship document. "I'm worried there may be something going on in your head that's telling you that you need to do this sooner, rather than later."

"There's not Peter, believe me."

Peter didn't. Uneasiness swept throughout the agent's body, realistic concern as to why Kate felt the need to take such action troubled him deeply. Alarm bells were ringing from all directions. Was Kate about to give up, throw in the blanket, 'check out.'? So far, all she'd managed through her drug-induced stupors was to lose consciousness and become violently ill. According to the rehabilitation therapists, Kate's primary motive each time she overdosed was to 'make the pain go away' and 'numb the memories'. Was she starting to look for more? Peter opened his desk drawer and tucked the controversial document away for safekeeping. "Katie, how's your new job going? You started at the dry cleaners on Monday? Everything okay so far?"

"Yeah, so far so good. I have early starts but I'm home soon after lunch so it's not all bad. Of course, when you get home and start in on the house work and the first chore you take on leads to this," Kate indicated the wallets which were sitting on the table, "you've got to ask yourself if you wouldn't be better off back at work." Kate shook her head, "I just can't believe he did it again. He's relentless. It never ends. He's-"

"He's coming back up the stairs… but listen Kate, we need to chat about this some more, okay? The guardianship document?"

"Yeah, sure."

The youngster knocked politely on the door then made his way slowly over to Peter. The agent wrapped him up in a hug. "You doing okay, buddy?"

Neal shook his head as he grumbled, "No Uncle, my butt's hurting."

Peter smiled, "I should hope so young man. I can't have you forgetting too easily or you just may go out and 'accidently' borrow something again."

"I won't Uncle. You know you could have just asked not to and it'd have the same result."

"Nuh-uh, but good try my boy."

"We should get going Peter, let you get back to all your important cases. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy day to take care of this issue." Kate hopped up and straightened her skirt.

"Yes Uncle Peter, I do so appreciate you being considerate enough to forgo investigating actual cases and arresting seasoned criminals to attend to one misguided boy. It's wonderful to see the FBI alive with community spirit."

Even though it was all spoken tongue in cheek, for after all Neal would never ever be outright rude to anyone let alone Peter, the agent took the opportunity to reinforce his intent. "Listen up little one, if by taking ten minutes out of my day to 'attend to one misguided boy', he doesn't grow up to be a seasoned criminal, then let me tell you, it's been the best ten minutes I've ever spent."

Neal rolled his eyes, knowing it was a lost cause, and gave Peter a hug. "See you soon Uncle, perhaps on the weekend."

"Yeah, nice try sport. I'll see you tomorrow morning, nine a.m. sharp."

Neal groaned, "Unreal."

"Goodbye Peter." Katie kissed her friend on the cheek. "Thanks again."

"Anytime Kate, and remember, we still have that other issue to discuss."

The young woman nodded as she stepped towards the door, waving a simple goodbye with her hand.

Peter had good intentions. He fully intended to continue his investigation as to why Kate felt the need to go to such lengths with the twin's guardianship. He'd told Kate that they'd discuss it some more and he didn't think for a second they wouldn't. Of course, life has a way of turning best laid plans on its head and as it turned out, they would never get the chance.

The agent waited a moment or two after his visitors had left the office before he headed out to see his boss. "Hey Reece. You got a moment?"

"Yeah," The senior didn't bother looking up from the paper work he was scrawling on. "What?"

"I have another name to add to our ever so popular work experience slash babysitting program."

"Who?"

Peter pretended to have to think for a moment. "Uh, I believe it was Mr. Neal Caffrey."

"Fine, so long as you're handling it. Send him down to Permanent Records if you want."

"No, I'll take care of him up here."

"Whatever." Reece finally looked up. "Does this Mr. Caffrey have any experience…

###

**Author's Note:** I've been a bit slow updating this because I've been busy writing a trade fic on the ff exchange. But as soon as that's finished, I'll be straight back into it before all the ideas explode in my head! In the meantime, if you have any preferences for episodes or ideas you may have, I'm always open to suggestions. Plus, please feel free to come across to the ff exchange (i'd put a link here but it's near impossible to get something even close!) and have a chat with others who like these type of father/son discipline fics staring Peter and Neal.


End file.
